


Acceptance

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Zine Collection [13]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Doubt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Missions Gone Wrong, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-05 12:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: When a mission goes awry leaving Satya alone and outnumbered, she thinks that it's all over, ready to meet it with her head held high. However, help comes from an unexpected source, and with it acceptance.





	Acceptance

    If she had been anyone else Symmetra would have cursed as the last of her security turrets disintegrated above her head, sending her ducking back behind the meagre shelter of the storage rack as shrapnel rained down on her. There was no way she could protect it now; it would take time to regenerate enough power for even one turret, and there was no way the enemy wouldn’t push their advantage now that they had broken her defences. At the sound of more shots being fired, she looked up just in time to see the generator flicker then flash red in warning. Muttering a prayer that was almost a curse, she grabbed her communicator, hoping to give the team at least a few seconds warning.

“Shield Generator is about to go offline,” she reported grimly as soon as Winston responded. Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she heard another shot, followed by the sound of the generator fizzling out before it shattered. She heard Winston mutter something, probably talking to whoever was beside him before he focused on her once more.

_“Can you rendezvous with us?”_

“No.” Symmetra didn’t waste her breath lying or trying to give false reassurances as she moved to a position where she could watch the door, listening emotionlessly to the urgent chatter that had greeted her blunt reply. She’d already accepted the fact that there was no one who would be able to get to her in time. It was a risk she had knowingly taken in coming so far back to set up the generator, although there had been little choice considering the welcome that had met them when they had landed and the lack of cover in the area. It didn’t stop the small voice that whispered that they would’ve come for her if she was someone else if she wasn’t still an outsider, more by her own choice than theirs…

And, if she wasn’t Vishkar.

     It was an old hurt, unjustified as everyone had welcomed her arrival at Gibraltar, accepting her addition to their small team and welcoming the skills and technology she had brought with her. Well, nearly everyone, she amended, remembering how tense things had been when she had been introduced to a certain medic. Although he had seemed happy enough to leave her be, he would still frown whenever she spoke about Vishkar. Maybe he would be happy with this outcome.

     She didn’t really believe that, but it was something else to focus on as she heard footsteps moving into the bunker. Her grip tightened on her weapon as she slowly reached up to switch off the communicator. The sudden silence was daunting, replaced by a roaring sound in her ears and a hammering that she knew was her own heartbeat as the reality of the situation hit.

She had nowhere to go.

     Symmetra didn’t hesitate. Refusing to let them take her cowering in a corner, she rose to her feet, adopting the most imperious expression she could muster. She was an Overwatch agent. She was Vishkar. It didn’t stop the terror building in her chest as she stepped out into the open; this wasn’t how she wanted to die. It didn’t seem like she had a choice anymore, eyes and guns swinging to aim at her, harsh voices ordering her to drop her weapon. She wasn’t fooled; there would be no surrender here, and her fingers curled tighter, ready to fire. She stood with her head held high as she stared at the enemies’ fingers tightening on their own triggers.

It was over.

“Satya!” She had barely registered the familiar voice above the roar of the guns as the Talon agents opened fire when she found herself being flung to the ground, her own shot going wild and the air being driven from her lungs as something heavy and warm landed on top of her with a grunt. She wasn’t given a chance to recover as the weight promptly disappeared, fingers wrapping around her wrist and yanking her to her feet. “RUN!” An urgent voice ordered, and she felt the music washing over her, letting her move faster before she even registered the identity of her saviour, eyes widening as she found herself staring at Lúcio’s back.

   There was no time to ask what he was doing there, her assailants already recovering from their surprise and opening fire once more. At once she found herself being pushed forward, Lúcio moving to cover her back. She frowned as she felt him stumble just as they broke free of the storage bunker, his fingers tightening against her shoulder for a second before he was urging her forward, music pulsing around them.

**

  Their pursuers were no match for the speed boost provided by Lúcio’s music, and it wasn’t long before the sounds of pursuit disappeared into the distance. Symmetra had half expected him to keep her moving forward, but a couple of minutes later his hand fell away from her shoulder, and she turned just in time to see him stagger. “What…?” The words died as she glimpsed the blood soaking into his top and the way his hand was creeping up to his shoulder. A cold feeling flooded her, the memory of how he had stumbled when they fled flashing through her mind, and for a moment her mind went completely blank.

_This is my fault._

    She was pulled back into the moment as Lúcio tried to straighten, offering her a forced grin as he took a wavering step forward. “We should get…” He trailed off, the movement clearly jostling his wound as the colour drained from his face. Symmetra moved to catch him before he could fall, pushing through her normal reluctance to engage in physical contact as she steadied him, expression darkening as she felt how badly he was trembling.

“Sit down,” she ordered, gently pushing him downwards when he didn’t move fast enough for her liking. Although he was close enough to the wall to support himself, she kept one hand on his shoulder as she reached for her communicator. Ignoring the influx of alarmed voices demanding to know if she was injured and what was happening, she cut across them sharply. “Lúcio is injured.” _Because of me,_ she wanted to add, but she wasn’t ready to discuss that yet. It was easier to retreat into her usual cool professionalism as she reeled off what she knew, her gaze never leaving Lúcio who had sunk back against the wall, his head slumping slightly as he shifted his music to the healing beat.

“They’re coming back for us,” she murmured, turning off the communicator after Winston had confirmed the location of their signal, and crouching down beside him. He mumbled an acknowledgement, and she pushed through her hesitation to reach for him, leaning him forward so that she could examine the injury. She hissed at the sight of the gunshot wound, anger spiking through the other emotions. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, lifting his head to attempt a grin, the effort ruined by the pain lining his face. “I don’t regret it though, because if I hadn’t taken that chance, I would be the one patching you up right now.” They both caught the lie in his words because if he hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have been patching her up at all. “Besides I’ve had worse.” That didn’t make her feel better, and not just because his head had bobbed again, the wound taking its toll.

“But, why take that risk for me. Especially, when I’m…”

“Vishkar?” Lúcio finished for her, voice soft and she found that he was peering at her, expression blank barring the pain that he couldn’t quite mask.

“Yes…”

“I can’t pretend to understand why you’re loyal to them,” Lúcio admitted softly, causing her to wince at his words. Part of her wanted to admit that she was increasingly unsure of her own loyalty, seeing with fresh eyes just what her people had been doing in their search for order, for perfection. Overwatch was anything but perfect, and yet in its chaos, she had found a warmth, a place to belong that she could never have imagined. As much as she wanted to hate it for making her doubt Vishkar, she craved this sense of community and longed to truly belong. “But, you are not Vishkar. You weren’t the one trying to destroy my home, my family…” There was pain there, a reminder of what he had lost and what it had cost him to come out as a hero for his people. It was a reminder of why he should hate her, but his gaze remained steady and accepting as he met her eyes. “I won’t put that on you. Besides, you’re one of us now.”

   There was more to be said; they could both feel it as Symmetra glanced away, awkward and grateful at the same time. However, Lúcio’s voice had been growing quieter, his head practically resting against his chest as the wound got the better of him even with his music pulsing. He lacked the energy to look up when they heard movement in the distance., so it fell to Symmetra to confirm that it was the rest of their team. She waved to indicate their position before reaching out and resting a hand on Lúcio’s uninjured shoulder. She knew that they would need to talk about this later, but she couldn’t let the moment go unacknowledged, not when he had given her so much. Her voice was soft, choked with an emotion she wasn’t ready to face as she murmured. “Thank you.”

 


End file.
